


Os Echo de Menos (I miss you)

by shiverfawkes



Series: The Logan speaks Spanish Ensemble [1]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phone Call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiverfawkes/pseuds/shiverfawkes
Summary: The people in that theatre probably knew them, they were cheering and clapping, they adored them, just as he did.And he didn’t even make the effort to go.





	Os Echo de Menos (I miss you)

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make sure the title is correct, English is my first language, I speak some French and Hungarian but I've never really touched Spanish at all. 
> 
> "I miss you (plural)" is what it's meant to be
> 
> if it's incorrect, let me know and I'll fix it

Logan sat, head in hands at his desk. He’d taken his glasses off and was pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Around the wooden surface, paper and pens and pencils were scattered in abundance. He was usually very organised, but with all the paperwork he had to file, the schedules he had to make and the salaries he had to count, organisation was not his top priority.

His phone vibrated on the desk. So, against his best prerogative he picked it up, glancing at the notification, squinting to read it without his glasses.

It was from Patton.

They were away, performing. They had been for the past four days.

When they first became friends, Roman discovered Patton’s talent for singing, and they competed and performed at miscellaneous events, after enough time they persuaded Virgil to join in, whether it be by voice or violin. When they moved it became a side project, a professional hobby, as oxymoronic as that may sound.  

Logan’s own talents consisted in speaking, rather than anything musical, but as of late Roman had been working his ass off trying to write some form of “rap” to incorporate him into the act. He appreciated the gesture, but truthfully, he thought four would be a crowd.

So, there he was. Sitting in his office, in an empty building save for him and his thoughts. Whilst his boyfriends were out performing.

He opened the message, it was a short video, presumably shot by Joan or Talyn, of them on stage. It was a short clip of Virgil and Roman “battling”. Virgil with violin riffs and Roman with vocal riffs. All the while Patton was pretending to be upset by the whole ordeal.

The crowd were laughing as Roman melodically recited playful insults, and as Virgil retorted, his words timed with each note he played.

He smiled at the screen sadly.

Then guilt hit him in the chest like a truck.

They were in Florida. The town they’d met, the town they’d formed a friendship, and then a relationship in.

This was their homecoming and he wasn’t there.

The people in that theatre probably knew them, they were cheering and clapping, they adored them just as he did.

And he didn’t even make the effort to go.

Logan closed his phone, not offering a reply to Patton’s video message.

How could he bring himself to talk to his loves when he wasn’t there to love them, he wasn’t there to encourage them, he wasn’t there to let them know he cared.

How could he have been such a shitty boyfriend?

Sighing heavily, he slipped his glasses back on.

“Mourning your idiocy, won’t help your intelligence.” He muttered to himself, getting furiously back to work. Sifting through the papers with so much force it was a miracle he hadn’t ripped the sheets themselves. His hands were trembling at this point, as he typed in the numbers, organising charts that he’d probably hate in the end, but he just kept going.

Anything to distract him from his thoughts.

His work phone letting out a shrill ring cut him back into reality, and as he held the device to his ear he realised his cheeks were wet with tears, when did he begin crying?

“Sanders Publishing Agency. This is Logan Sanders; how can I help you?” The words flowed from his lips before he could think. Who would even be phoning his work at this time?

“Logan what the fuck is going on?” It was Joan, their voice gravelly through the phone speakers, but just as clear as ever. He could tell they were pissed.

“Joan? Why are you-“

“Why are _you_ ignoring your boys? You didn’t respond to Patton and they’ve been texting you. This isn’t like you Lo’” Their voice was stern, they really weren’t going to let him leave without an answer, and a lump caught in his throat.

He was never very good at admitting his mistakes, and one like this had brought him to tears.

Breaking down to one of his closest friends was not in his schedule tonight.

He could only choke out a sad laugh, running hand through his hair as he tried to construct a reply. “I… Joan, what kind of boyfriend am I? This was their home show, they are in the place where we all first met. It’s _sentimental_. Yet here I am in the office, many miles away. I should be there supporting them and I’m not…”

The line was silent, except from the muffled voices of the crowd in the background, presumably Joan had stepped outside.

“No wonder they think I don’t care. What if they think I really _am_ just a quick tempered, emotionless, robot? What _if_ I am?”

The lack of response worried him, perhaps the line had disconnected? Yet the timer was still ticking up.

“And you say you’re the smart one.” It was Virgil’s voice.

His stomach dropped. As his brain began to place the pieces together. Had they heard everything? This is exactly what he _didn’t_ want.

A hearty laugh came just as clear, most definitely Roman. “He is right, my pretty pocket calculator.”

Joan had him on speaker.

Presumably this was an intermission. They were backstage or outside the venue, somewhere quiet enough to hear. He should have known.

He was such an idiot.

“Logan, honey, we know you’re busy.” Patton’s voice ran through his ears, sweet as crofters, it felt like a hug just to hear them all talk again.

“And full of shit. You really think we think you don’t care? We know specs, you work your beautiful ass off, _for_ us, not because you hate us.” Virgil’s voice was strong, and Logan felt his face get hot. "I wouldn't doubt for a second you'd be here if it was an option. And I practically have a masters in doubting things." 

“I _want_ to be there. I want to be there to kiss you all after the show and congratulate you and go out for drinks afterward. I want to be a part of that. And I'm not. Isn’t that selfish?” He replied the sobs in his throat forcing their way up.

He missed them so fucking much.

Why was he only realising this now?

“Oh, my dearest dictionary, you are everything but. You run a company, leaving just to see us perform would have been wouldn’t have been selfish at all, staying there to convenience your workers, is selfless.” Roman spoke softly, and Logan would have given anything to be there in his arms.

He laughed bitterly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You get back tomorrow correct?”

“Tomorrow evening, yes.” Patton replied.

“Will you be irritated if I make out with you in the airport? Because if so, then I will have to prepare to restrain myself.” Logan replied indignantly, allowing himself to giggle a little as the others began to laugh.

“Sweetheart, we can do whatever you want the moment we’re together again.” He could picture the blush on Virgil’s face, somewhat hidden by the makeup he wore, but his ears would be burning scarlet, as much as he hated to admit it.

“I love you all. I wish I could be with you now.” He choked on a sob, threatening to escape, as he tried to picture them in his head, they’d be huddled around Joan's phone, Roman with his arm around one of their waists, Virgil with his hands in his hoodie pockets, and Patton holding the device.

“Love you too.”

“My heart yearns for the moment I lay eyes on you again my darling.”

“Aww! Love you too, so much, honestly too much, but I do!”

“Get back to your show, fracture a femur. I have work to finish. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later specs.”

“Farewell, love.”

“Buenas noches, mi amor. I told you I was learning! Was that good?”

Logan smiled softly, his cheeks tinted pink, shaking his head fondly at their antics, knowing that they couldn’t see him. “Bye.”

He clicked the phone back into the stand, leaning back in his chair, wiping his face with his hands. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, he allowed himself to smile.  

“Right, back to work.”


End file.
